


Evening Star Blues

by Xeiana



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: All Noctis wants is Ignis' love, And to have Regis back as a dad instead of a King, Angst, Background lesbian couple, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Festivals, First Kiss, Good Parent Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Stasis, Minor Original Character(s), Regis gives Ignis his blessings, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, social and wealth status issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 12:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15885618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeiana/pseuds/Xeiana
Summary: The Evening Star Festival represents love on multiple levels – friendship, familial love, and of course the love that binds two or more people together… However discontent festers within Noctis’ heart. For why would he wish to celebrate such a festival when his own love is unobtainable?





	Evening Star Blues

“Concentrate Noctis! You are attuned to the weapons… Now use them!”

It was all too tempting to snap at his father, to childishly say things like ‘I know, I’m trying!’ or ‘I’m not a kid!’. Too tempting… Noctis instead growled, eyes glaring at the older man in front of his, at his father who stood there as regal as ever. Regis looked impeccably poised, the perfect monarch the city could have ever hoped for and here he was, the Crown Prince of Lucis, just fumbling to summon a stupid simple weapon! Letting out a frustrated yell, he held out his hand, searching, _reaching_ out for the dagger he knew was there. It splintered into existence, yet the crystallized weapon refused to become corporeal, refused to stay in the correct shape before it shattered into pieces that vanished before they could hit the ground.

“AGH!” Noctis turned away and slammed his fist into the nearby wall, anger oozing from his pores. His magic reacted wildly, lashing out in response to his violate emotions. The walls around him, pure white in contrast to the normal black in the Citadel, seemed to only amplify his magic. It wasn’t farfetched since in this room he could hear the song of the crystal, an eerie melody that drifted in and out of his hearing, cradled in its own room several dozen floors above them.

Behind him, Regis took a step forward, summoning the same dagger to his hand before letting it disappear.

“You’re not concentrating.” Noctis turned around to protest, anger in his eyes when his father held up his hand. The prince immediately bit back his retort, ducking his head so his blue eyes were hidden under his bangs. Shame filled him, his magic withdrawing until it wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Noctis…. Whatever it is that is lingering in the back of your head is breaking your concentration.  You’ve been successful so far in summoning weapons you have placed in the aetherspace of your armiger, however weapons that I specifically placed in there seem to be a bit of a challenge.” The prince glared away from him, clenching his hands into fists. Of course it was hard! How was he supposed to know how to picture what weapon to pull when he didn’t know how it looked like, how it felt like?

Any commoner thought you just pull a weapon out from thin air and that was that. A snort nearly made its way through his teeth but he caught it in time. To successfully summon a weapon into its corporeal state meant knowing how it felt in one’s hand, every dip and divot of the blade and handle, every crack and scratch had to be thought of until it all melded into one word – the name of the weapon.

“I fear today we will get no further than this.” Noctis ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Last time he had summoned a polearm on accident, his advisor’s polearm to be precise. His father had made no sign that he had recognized it but it was all too clear what had been plaguing his mind as of late. It didn’t help that the Evening Star Festival was going to begin tomorrow morning. He would be expected to join the festivities, probably in his royal garb. The suit, it was nice but it just made him feel so stiff. It was like he was nothing more than eye candy to the public and all the wishful women of Insomnia.

But the thing that hurt the most was the slightly exasperated look his father had hidden beneath a clam exterior. He knew his father, knew how to find those little giveaway signs that showed through his royal façade. It was like how Ignis could detect what his mood was by a simple glance. Was he disappointed in him for not going farther in this training session? They’ve been practicing for months with perfecting his warping skills and funneling his magic into more complex spells. It was slow progress but it all revolved around his father’s schedule.

With Niflheim testing their patience at moving against their borders overseas, it was making true alone time difficult.

Noctis dipped his head, waiting for the lecture he knew he would be getting. He knew his father had started on magic wielding earlier than him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying, rather he had actually been practicing by himself a lot, when Prompto wasn’t over playing video games or trying to balance normal training with Gladiolus and the endless notes from meetings with Ignis. The lecture never came and he almost jumped when he felt a hand descend onto his shoulder gently.

“Noctis… You’ve shown great improvement over the past few months, especially with warping. I know you want to prove your worth outside the wall in a real battle, but until you can summon anything from your armiger in a blink of an eye, I cannot allow you to go. But know I am proud of what you have accomplished, my son. Your mother would have been proud.” Dumbly, the prince stared at his father, looking like a fish out of water. Praise from his father was one thing, but this sounded different. Like he knew how hard he had been trying and although he was fumbling, that he could see that there was indeed improvement and not just the ‘half-assed’ attempts that others surely whispered about.

“T-thanks dad.” Those words were like a whisper in the silence of the room. Regis continued to smile down at him, for once, in a very long time, looking like an actual father instead the King of Lucis. Bitterly he wished he could steal his father away more from all those stupid meetings. They wanted to meet with their King, but Ifrit’s Balls, he wanted to just have his own damn _father_ for a little while. He missed running away from their shields for a bit down to the small pond hidden away in the massive north park so they could fish, being able to steal fresh pastries from the kitchen without the chef’s noticing. He missed the nights where, when Ignis was too exhausted to stay up because of his various lectures and classes, where he could run to his father’s rooms and they would throw the blankets over their heads and tell each other ‘scary’ stories.

Noctis missed actually having his father there. He ducked his head, determined to not cry in front of him for such childish reasons. Six, he should have been glad he was able to have these lessons when it was just them and their magic. This was more than enough. But somewhere, lingering in the back of his mind, that tiny little voice wanted more. It always did.

Did his father even know that?

Regis could tell his son was distracted then and took in his expression. Tightly thinned lips, furrowed eyebrows, hunched shoulders that told his thoughts were pulling inwards. His eyes softened. Although Ignis held the top spot of being able to interpret every movement his son makes, Regis liked to pride himself on being able to at least catch on to his son’s moods but ever since the attack that took both his wife and nearly his son away from him, it was as if he was looking at a shell.

It hurt…

“We can continue this another time after the festival. I believe your retainers are in one of the training rooms. Perhaps you should join them.” Regis gently smiled down at his son, holding his gaze for a moment as he noticed the apprehension dwelling in their depths. Did he think he was just throwing him to the wolves? Or in other words, throwing him to the whims of Gladiolus and his rough training sessions?

“If he tries to throw you into anything too excessive, simply tell him it’s the king’s orders that a light warmup can do.” Noctis stared owlishly up at him. His father was giving him a get out of jail free card? Wow… He nodded, scratching the back of his head.

“Thanks dad.”

“Trust me, I know how those hard-headed shields get when they are in the mindset. Clarus was non-stop, and, when Cor got into it, was quite the hard-ass and never let up. Your sword has a more collected and calmer exterior than Cor used to be.” Regis grinned down at Noctis who was trying very hard to not laugh. It wasn’t often that he was able to sit down like this and talk with him. He always did love hearing those stories. Perhaps… Perhaps maybe he’ll sit down when he had a slow day and they could properly catch up, a father-so-son afternoon.

“Does this mean we’re going to be swapping stories about our retainers? You still never gave me a full story about what you guys did on your little ‘roadtrip’.” The smirk he got from his father only fueled his need to have a day to themselves. He wanted to hear it all, especially with those rumors on how loud mouthed the Immortal used to be in his younger years.

“Roadtrip? Son, how much trouble can one roadtrip, a few stubborn men, and Niflheim be all added together to the same pot?” The answer was simple. A lot.

“Now go on and enjoy your thrashing session with your shield. We’ll have an early day so we can get up bright eyed for the festival tomorrow.” Regis caught the hesitant way Noctis looked down and his eyebrows furrowed. That was a rapid change in mood.

“Yeah, right… The festival. I’ll make sure I set an alarm for it. See you dad.” Noctis made a hasty retreat to the door, opening the doors. He staggered slightly before he shook his head and slipped through the doors, letting them fall closed behind him. The king stared after his son’s sudden departure and change in mood. Noctis had always enjoyed the festival before, so what was the change? He listened for another minute, hearing the uneven footfalls of his son get fainter.

Regis suddenly frowned, reaching out slightly with the crystal’s help. The swirl of magic inside Noctis was lower than normal. He hadn’t pushed him too hard had he? If his magic dropped too low...

He will check in on his after his training session.

. . . .

Noctis hesitated outside the training room that his retainers always used. He could hear them inside; Prompto was cheering on a friendly spar between Ignis and Gladiolus from what he could here. Immediately at the thought of seeing Ignis, his heart leapt into his throat. He slumped against the wall nearby, his eyes falling closed. Even after he told himself a thousand times that he was over this stupid little crush – though it had far exceeded such a long time ago – he couldn’t help how his heart fluttered at just his name. His smile caused his stomach to flip flop and every time his advisor had moved to properly button his messy shirt or smooth out his clothes, all Noctis could think of is those same fingers tilting his head up or those lips descending onto his lips and –

The prince jerked back into reality, cheeks stained with crimson as he tried to forget the images that flashed across his mind. Footsteps began to echo in the hallway and momentarily Noctis panicked. For what reason? He honestly wasn’t sure. Nervously, he looked around and saw a tiny alcove that led out to a small balcony. Noctis hid in a tiny nook along the alcove with a large pot of flowers in front of him. Sitting down with his legs pulled in tight, he quickly tried to get comfortable. He just fit, his hair blending in with the dark purple plants. Trying to calm his suddenly racing heart was one thing, but when the footsteps stalled, he held his breathe. Shit.

“Libertus is taking too long getting changed. He’s paying for food tonight.” Noctis knew that sharp tongue. He peered out to see two Glaives standing right outside the alcove, oblivious to the hiding prince. Her name, it was a bird, right? Raven, Robin? No…. Crowe! And that was Nyx, the self-proclaimed hero of the Glaives. There were many times in which he had driven him places when Ignis had been unavailable. Crowe paused, grinning over at the other Glaive.

“And, since I kicked both of your asses in our magic exercises, that means you owe me a drink, Hero.” Nyx snorted, pulling her close to him as he forced her to continue walking.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll buy you a round all to yourself, how’s that?” Crowe turned to punch his shoulder with a grin, before quickening her pace. Noctis quickly hid when he saw Nyx begin to look around. Wait… Had Nyx been staring at the mage’s ass when she walked away. He dared another peek and heard him let out a long whistle, eyes looking not fully forward, but rather down.

Well damn. The mage called out to him and he could feel the smile in her words. The way Nyx’s eyes softened as he disappeared from view, he wondered if that was how he looked whenever he glanced at Ignis when the man wasn’t paying attention. Six knows Prompto’s always explained in vivid detail how he looked. Not that he had stared at his advisor’s ass! He sat there for a while, running his hands through his hair to stop his mind from wandering. It was obvious he couldn’t stay there, waiting for a random maid or servant to stumble upon him. Noctis had to go in.

Brushing himself off, he stood up and crept back into the hallway, trying to push away the tired feeling that had been nagging him since he left the room with his father. Technically he’s been more exhausted than normal starting five days ago with all of his extra magic training outside of his father’s lessons, but he always brushed it off, thinking it was because of the nightmares that kept him from sleeping well. As his hand closed upon the handle, he paused, closing his eyes as the sounds from inside slipped through the cracks.

Once upon a time his father had mentioned being able to feel his companions while they fought. The magic connection that linked them to him helped them phase, warp, use his magic. Bitterness rose up within him. He couldn’t feel that. He didn’t have enough stamina to let them use his power like that yet. He remembered hearing Luna’s mother speak to a nurse when he was being treated that it was because of his injury caused by the Marilith. Noctis never knew why it stopped him from being able to reach his full potential with his magic, the older Oracle had stopped talking when she realized the injured prince had awoken.

There was a reason why he had wanted to be stronger, to be able to share his gifts with his own group of companions. Not only did the prince wish to be just as strong as his father with his magic, his friends could be even stronger. It meant he could be useful. After all, what use was a Prince of Lucis if he couldn’t tap into the full potential of his bloodline? With a deep breath, Noctis opened the door and slipped in, closing it behind him quietly. Immediately the fight before him captured his attention. It seemed like Ignis and Gladiolus were in two separate worlds with how different their fighting styles were.

Gladiolus was a powerhouse as all Amicitia shields were. Broad-shouldered and full of muscle, they charged into anything that threatened their liege and brought them to their knees. Gladiolus was no exception. Following in his father’s footsteps, he used a practice broadsword in sweeping swipes to keep Ignis from darting in to attack. The heavy weapon seemed light as a feather to him yet Noctis knew exactly how it felt to even attempt to swing such a large sword. Ignis on the other hand was quick and light on his feet. He always had a plan and his flashy fighting style always seemed to be deliberate and planned even if something unexpected came his way. His fighting partners were always trying to figure out where he would land that they played right into his trap. He’s been in the receiving end of that plan and it was frustrating.

It took Noctis only a second to realize that he was standing there, blatantly staring. Eyes darting around to make sure no one had noticed his arrival, he breathed a silent sigh of relief before walking over to where his best friend was sitting, enraptured by the fight. When sitting down a foot away from him did nothing to tear his attention away from the spar, he grinned.

“So, see anything you like?” The prince stretched his hands up in the air, feeling his spine pop and crack with the motion. Lazily, he grinned over at the slack-jawed blonde who quickly shut his mouth and sputtered a denial. Yet it was no use hiding it from Noctis, he could tell where his full attention was – on a certain tattooed shield of his whose muscles were definitely something to oogle at. Luckily for his best friend, he had his eyes on the lithe figure fighting said shield, resulting in no competition.

Prompto paused, suddenly realizing that there was someone next to him. The blonde made a high pitched yelp, jumping in his seat and flailing slightly to regain his balance, doing a double take. When did Noctis get there?

“Dude! When did you get there? How?” Noctis couldn’t stop his grin from widening, trying to look as nonchalant about the appearance as he could. He gave a rolling shrug to help work out the kinks in his joints, anything to keep himself from slipping back into that exhausted state.

“What are you talking about Prom? I’ve been here the entire time. You’re just too busy oogling someone.” Hook, line, and sinker. Prompto’s face went red as he tried to play it off cool, but the way his voice remained a tiny bit higher than normal said everything clear as day, at least to him.

“There’s no way you were there! I would have seen you come in!” Noctis laughed it off, flinging an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and turned his eyes back to the two fighters. He then glanced back with his knowing grin.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah…” Prompto was silent, eyes traveling back to Gladiolus when he let loose a shout, nearly sweeping Ignis off his feet. The way his eyes traveled over his shield’s form, Noctis knew his best friend had it bad. It wasn’t even the nice body Gladiolus had, Prompto always said he loved how passionate he could be about his interests, how fiercely protective he was and how it made him feel safe. Noctis knew he had mentioned it to Prompto that Gladiolus didn’t think any less of him when he couldn’t keep up in the Crownsguard strength exercises. In fact, it showed the shield just how hard he tried to do his best. Gladiolus may be a flirt, but it was as if he was playing the waiting game, but why?

“So,” Noctis said, keeping his tone light and casual to lure him into a false sense of security that he had dropped the issue, “you never answered my question.” He could feel Prompto freeze, see how he slowly turned wary eyes onto him. Parting his lips to tease him even more, his name being called distracted him. The prince hadn’t even realized that the match had ended and stared wide-eyed at the two men walking towards them.

“Well well Princess, seems you finally decided to join us.”

“Noct, how did the training go? I was under the impression you would be busy until late.” Noctis withdrew his hand from around Prompto, who was doing his best to not stare at Gladiolus’ chest. There was no way he was currently glaring at his shield for that blasted nickname he had bestowed upon him. Nope. His withering gaze did nothing to faze the brawny warrior.

“Father let me out early, said I can join you guys for a bit but otherwise have a lazy afternoon to recoup for tomorrow. And yes Gladio, that means it’s an order from the king himself to not push me too hard today.” The look on Gladiolus’ face was worth it. He’d have to mention it to his father later on. He was certain he’d get a kick out of it. Ignis however looked rather worried. Normally if any type of practice was called off, then that meant Noctis wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t like that, he felt fine, if not just tired like always. He waved away Ignis.

“I’m fine, Specs.” He said firmly to warn him to not ask again, not providing them with an more explanations. Gladiolus grinned, leaning on the broadsword. Oh Noctis did not like that look!

“Well then, even if he said I have to go easy on you, that doesn’t mean we can’t spar now does it? I can’t, as your mentor in fighting, let you go completely soft on us all for even one afternoon.” The prince sighed dramatically, slouching again the wall behind him. It was so over the top that even Ignis cocked a smile at his theatrics.

“Woe is me, I’ll show up to the festival tomorrow in a wheelchair because my own shield decided to make me train until my arms and legs fell off, despite the King’s order.” Gladiolus laughed loudly at that, hefting his sword up onto his shoulder before nodding his head towards Ignis’ direction. His advisor was grinning, twirling his daggers like they were nothing. He envied his grace and damned if he didn’t look very handsome, even if he was covered in sweat.

“Instead of a hefty work out with yours truly, then how about a two on one with Ignis and I then you can go and plop in your bed? It’s time we work on your improvising during battle. You won’t always just be facing a single opponent.” the shield mused, looking quite eager to start another mock battle as he took his place back on the training area. The prince easily perked up when his bed was mentioned. Oh yes, that’s exactly what he wanted. His nice warm bed where he can nap until he decided to crawl out for dinner.

Noctis called upon his practice sword he kept in the armiger. Although he normally had complained about using blunt weapons in these training sessions, he decided to forgo the whining that happened every single time. Gladiolus raised an eyebrow at the lack of over the top sighs for that and settled into a ready position, Ignis doing the same. Two on one meant it’d possibly distract him from staring at the fluid way Ignis fought like and focus on not getting cornered by both of them. Six knew he needed to get his mind on something else for a change because getting cornered by Ignis really turned him on. For a moment his mind turned on its side, a sudden shift that nearly sent him off balance. He shook his head quickly to get rid of the weird feeling. There was a nagging in the back of his mind that something was wrong, something familiar.

Something that he really shouldn’t ignore, but here he was, doing just that.

He may have failed at summoning a simple dagger today, but he was not about to chicken out of a two on one. He threw his sword, aiming for Gladiolus and used his magic to hook onto the thrown sword like it was a simple extension of his arm. The prince could feel the air around him sharpen, feel the way his body began to crystallize, shattering into simple shards that could leave behind a decoy image of himself if he so willed it.

It all happened in such a quick moment, the feeling of being one place, then almost being transported into a new spot, but something suddenly felt wrong. It was as if someone dumped ice cold water on his head, then his stomach dropped out from inside him, feeling almost painfully empty. He couldn’t even gasp as he appeared halfway out of the warp, landing hard on his knees, fingers outstretched to grip the handle of the sword that now clattered a few feet away from his shield. Everything spun around him, vision going blue, the color of his magic. He didn’t remember anything as he collapsed, not even the shouts of the three closest friends around him. All he could feel was numbness spreading across his hollow-feeling body.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I finished this chapter I kept going back and editing it due to thinking it wasn't good enough. Now after a final edit, I slapped it on here and am calling it a day! This thing went from one chapter, to two, to three, then finally five full chapters planned out. Plus the end is already written. Enjoy!


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